


Persevere

by floss



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floss/pseuds/floss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You toy with me."</p>
<p>"No," Damen said, humour draining out of his voice. He crawled up Laurent's body and searched his face: a confused mix of frustration and arousal. "I want to give you pleasure."</p>
<p>"You--are," Laurent gritted. He pushed his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, agitated. "And then you stop."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persevere

Perhaps there was something about wakefulness that was contagious. There had been no sound to rouse him, but when Damen opened his eyes he found himself far better rested than the lingering darkness seemed to allow. He rolled over and saw Laurent on his back beside him, breathing slow; he might have been asleep but for the faint moonlight reflected in his open eye.

"Laurent." Damen's voice scratched with disuse. "Go back to sleep." 

"Well," Laurent said softly, "if it's that easy."

Damen let out a breath and inched closer, so that he pressed against Laurent's side. Laurent made no movement in response; he didn't turn towards him, but there was no tension, either. Like Damen, he was simply awake.

"How long have you been up?" he asked. 

Laurent's shoulder moved against his chest. "Not long. Less than an hour."

Damen searched under the covers for Laurent's hand. It closed around his at the first touch, sweetly familiar. Laurent turned his face towards him and said, "I woke you?"

"No. I just woke."

Laurent's nose brushed his cheek. The air was cool, accentuated by the quality of the light, which picked out the vague edges of furnishings in pale, dappled tones. The contrast made the warmth of their bodies under the covers seem like something private: an additional layer of solitude within the confines of their room. Their hands, resting on Laurent's bare stomach, rose and fell evenly with each breath. 

Whether out of habit or some strange instinct against disturbing the quiet Damen lifted his chin slowly, telegraphing his intentions long before their lips met. Laurent's fingers tightened fractionally before lifting away to touch Damen's jaw, a very light contact that Damen took as encouragement; he parted his lips ever so slightly and was overcome in a wash of warmth when, in response, he felt the first brush of Laurent's tongue. It provoked a stirring of arousal that felt nevertheless contentedly aimless other than the desire to touch and to be touched, delicately, until they both fell back to sleep, but the curl of Laurent's fingers in his hair urged the kiss deeper.

Damen may have had no aim in mind, but his cock lay heavily between them and Laurent was clearly amenable; his breath shuddered out of him as Damen swept his thumb back and forth over the skin just under his ribcage. Carefully, he slid his hand downwards and was rewarded with a sigh as his fingers closed around Laurent, heated confirmation that his own desire was matched.

Although Laurent's fingers still tangled in Damen's hair, he broke the kiss as Damen began to sweep his thumb over the tip. His breathing had picked up, slightly ragged but stubbornly even; the occasional gasp was the loudest thing in the room, and somehow all the sweeter for managing to break through his restraint. Damen touched him as if it were an act of discovery instead of lust: slowly, thrilling at every muted response he managed to elicit and feeling it almost as if it were happening to his own body as Laurent crested closer and closer to the edge. 

And then, suddenly, retreated from it. 

Laurent had gone still, utterly, caught in a tension that held his muscles taut. Damen continued, for a few moments, hoping that perseverance would coax Laurent back to pleasure as it had sometimes done before, but it was an aim that quickly seemed miserable. He lifted his hand to Laurent's cheek instead.

"No?"

Laurent's eyes were closed. His lips, open and so soft only moments before, were now a thin line. Damen kissed his forehead and, very gently, coaxed Laurent instead onto his side, where he lay quietly in the loose circle of Damen's arms.

Laurent touched his collarbone; his eyes were fixed on the movement, barely perceptible in the dark. Eventually he said, "I know you like it."

"But you don't."

"No. I--" Laurent breathed out harshly through his nose. "It's not that."

Damen kissed the flush of Laurent's cheek, a gesture that was strange in its chasteness: Laurent's arousal was obvious, caught beside his own. 

"I just," Laurent said, pushing the words out, "find it difficult."

"I know." Laurent had told him that before. Even if he hadn't, Damen would have gleaned it from experience. "What if," he said suddenly, "it was you? If it was your hand."

"Then I'd have no use for you at all."

Damen let out a startled breath of laughter. "Should I find a pallet? I wasn't proposing exile."

Laurent said, "Then we are in accord." He sought Damen's lips. Damen drew him close.

Their bodies shifted together minutely until Damen lay his hand against the small of Laurent's back. Then he felt the shift of muscle as Laurent began to move against him, bringing heat to the surface of Damen's skin. 

It was slow, as everything before had been, each movement drawn out so that even the most subtle response seemed immense. Damen trembled with it. His breath caught in his throat. The instinct to plunge forward, unused to being resisted, thrummed its impatience in every nerve even as Damen revelled in the soft, unguarded sounds of Laurent's pleasure. 

He drew his hand up Laurent's side, and then down. Laurent followed it, latching on to each sensation with a single-minded focus, the gratification of his own movement abandoned in favour of Damen's hand sliding over his soft, fine skin. Although Laurent's face was tucked against Damen's neck they lay a little apart now, so that Damen could see, faintly, the outlines of their bodies, truncated by the kicked-down covers.

Laurent's skin was flushed. His chest heaved with breath. Damen skimmed it with the backs of his fingers and felt Laurent's heartbeat. His own chest felt full, impossibly tender. Pushing himself up onto one elbow prompted Laurent to roll onto his back; his limbs were splayed, open.

"Fuck me," he said. In the dark, his eyes were darker.

"Let me touch you," Damen said.

Laurent closed his eyes. After a moment he nodded. Damen continued as he had been, fingers light as he drew them across Laurent's pulse, down his side and up the inside of his thighs, invitingly parted. He touched, fleetingly, between them. Laurent arched, seeking contact unselfconsciously as Damen withdrew.

The more he touched the more Laurent trembled under him, face averted and fists tight in the sheets. Damen began to use his mouth, kissing his neck, his wrist, lingering at each until the tension in Laurent began to peak, breath growing ragged as, more and more, he gave voice to every response.

The heat of Laurent's cock brushed against his cheek as Damen kissed the hollow of his hip, straining and wet at the tip. On impulse, Damen drew it into his mouth. The thought, unbidden, that Laurent might use his hands on him as roughly as he was using them on the sheets, to keep him there until he came, filled Damen with a heavy ache. He longed to stay there. But when Laurent's gasps grew infrequent with held breath, Damen lifted off.

"What, exactly," Laurent panted, "is your aim?"

"You don't know?" Warmly.

"You toy with me."

"No," Damen said, humour draining out of his voice. He crawled up Laurent's body and searched his face: a confused mix of frustration and arousal. "I want to give you pleasure."

"You--are," Laurent gritted. He pushed his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, agitated. "And then you stop."

"I don't want you to have to hold yourself back."

Laurent stared at him. He pulled Damen down, grip tight on his shoulder.

He said, "Don't stop."

Damen pressed against him and felt the shift of emotions as he felt the shift of Laurent's body under him, from tense frustration to something heated and seeking. Damen sought too, goaded by the firm pressure of Laurent's heel against his back and the circle of his arms, which kept Damen tightly enveloped so that he could only rock: long, inexorable strokes of body against body that filled Damen's mind until his only purpose was this, and having more of it.

Laurent's breath was harsh in his ear. Damen could feel the tension building in him, but the quality of it was different now: Laurent was following it, allowing Damen to guide him into abandon instead of quailing at the edge. His hand tightened on the back of Damen's neck, sending sharp heat through him in a spike that, slowly, expanded until he could no longer contain it. "I won't," he promised even as he spilled, making the way slippery and easy between them. Laurent came under him a moment later, cry bitten off and muffled against Damen's neck.

Damen stilled and tried to catch his breath. He didn't want to move. He never wanted to: it was a selfish desire that he indulged only until their breathing evened out.

Laurent let out a breath and rolled to his feet. He walked unsteadily, as if groggy with sleep; when he returned a minute later he was steadier, and clean, but seemed grateful to perch on the edge of the bed.

"You're tired?"

"You tire me."

Damen laughed and lifted the washcloth from Laurent's loose grip. Once he was clean, he dropped it off the side of the bed.

Laurent raised an eyebrow.

"I'll get it in the morning," Damen said. He held out an arm.

Laurent picked his way almost delicately towards him, visibly heavy-limbed, but fitted himself against Damen's side unselfconsciously, a weight that was wholeheartedly welcomed. His demeanour was entirely unlike the one Damen had woken up to: there was nothing alert about him now. That was contagious, too.

"Sleep with me?" Damen asked. 

"Yes," Laurent said, faint, and tucked his face against Damen's neck.


End file.
